


She's cold but it isn't the snow...

by rayeliann



Series: A Small Fire in a Dark World [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Gen, Haven, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-10 14:11:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3293294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayeliann/pseuds/rayeliann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cole helps Cullen to understand why Mage!Trevelyan is having a hard time sleeping after the events at Therinfal Redoubt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	She's cold but it isn't the snow...

The growing dark of dusk made it difficult for Cullen to read the list he had scribbled down in order to prepare for the arrival of the templars. The Herald had returned not long ago from Therinfal with the news, and he had gotten right to work. It would be better to be ready when they arrived, he would not have the Inquisition fall short of expectations. If only he could make out the words on his list- perhaps he needed a candle like Josephine… 

A loud crash accompanied the shooting pain up his shins, as the Commander stumbled over a large crate that had been left directly in his path. As he silently swore to have a stern word with Threnn, his eyes scanned his surroundings. Many of the residents of Haven had retired for the evening, but there seemed to be a small gathering around Varric’s campfire. Thankfully, it seemed that only Leliana had taken note of his embarrassing run-in with the crate. She was smiling slyly, and merely lifted an eyebrow before sauntering back into her tent. 

Wincing over still-smarting shins, Cullen’s gaze was drawn back to the small gathering at the campfire. It had been going on for a while, sparked by the discovery of a bottle of one of Varric’s favorite beverages. Varric seemed to be in the middle of a story, and his audience was hanging on every word. Cullen found he was surprised to recognize the Herald’s braids among the audience. She had looked absolutely exhausted when she had returned, and he had expected her to retire early to rest.

“She can’t sleep.” A soft voice at Cullen’s side whispered. No, he hadn’t imagined it - it came from a tall, pale looking young man in a floppy hat. His white-blonde hair fell over giant blue eyes that seemed to see straight through Cullen.

“She wants to. But it’s words are bouncing around in her mind, echoing and hurting her. The stories fill up the space, so there isn’t as much room for them to rattle.” The young man explained, half to Cullen, and half to no one in particular. When he spoke, his soft voice trembled ever so slightly, as if he didn’t use it much. He was still looking past the Commander, his gaze focused on the Herald. 

Cullen felt a peculiar prickle on the back of his neck, and his fingers tensed around the list he was holding. There was something odd about the young man… what had the Herald called him? Cole? 

“She’s cold, but it isn’t the snow. Her skin is prickling, tingling, itching. That thing crawled inside her, and she couldn’t stop it. She’s afraid to sleep, afraid of the fade, afraid it left a door open for others to find her and hurt her.” 

Cullen felt himself bristle at the boy’s words. Had there been a threat in there? The Herald had said she trusted Cole, that he had saved her. But demons were tricky, and he wouldn’t put it past one to destroy one of it’s kind to gain someone’s trust. He felt his free hand tighten around the sword he wore at his belt. 

“No, no. I help. Never hurt. Oh, I’ve done it wrong again.” 

Cullen had the oddest sensation that he had just been talking to someone- but there was no one around. The hairs along the back of his neck were standing on end, and he was gripping the hilt of his sword, as if he’d been about to draw it. How odd. He must be more tired than he thought, if he’d lost track of what he was doing. That or it was… no, he would not consider that option. He was tired, nothing more.

On second thought, he would not bother the Herald with this list just now. It looked like she was enjoying one of Varric’s stories, and she had been through more with her trip to Therinfal than any of them could have anticipated. You didn’t just walk away from being in the clutches of a demon and go about your day. He knew that better than most. She seemed to be holding up remarkably well, considering. But he ought to mention to Cassandra and Leliana to keep an eye on her.

Cullen spoke briefly with Leliana on his way back in to the Chantry, and left his list with Josephine, who promised things would be ready before Ser Barris and the templars arrived. As he began peeling off his layers of clothing and armor for bed, a cool breeze stirred through the room. When he turned, his fur was missing. 

Cullen swore under his breath, cursing Sera and her pranks, as he pushed aside his silver breastplate, and went outside in search of the little troublemaker. The Chantry was empty, save for Mother Giselle, who never seemed to sleep. Pulling open the heavy wooden door, the Commander scanned the snow for fresh footprints. Sera couldn’t have gotten far. 

Varric’s story must have ended - the campfire was quietly smoldering, and a few slumped forms were still gathered around it, but the dwarf was nowhere to be seen. Cullen spotted the faintest silhouette of a tall, thin figure in a wide, floppy hat draping something over a slumbering form that could only be the Lady Herald. He’d recognize her coiled braids and sharp shoulders anywhere.

“She’s cold.” he seemed to remember someone saying- but he couldn’t quite remember who.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [An Open Door](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3641424) by [rayeliann](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayeliann/pseuds/rayeliann)




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